the Fellowship begins
by Elfgirloflorien
Summary: Pippin gets bored. Boromir gets irritated. what else do you need to unite one very different group of adventurers?


That very first night, after leaving the warm beds and quiet rest of Rivendell, the hobbits kept to themselves. Around the fire, they naturally joined into one small clump of four, almost a separate group of people. They—especially Frodo—would not admit to themselves that they might be afraid of the slim woodland elf or the tall man or even the stocky dwarf—Gloin's son though he might be. They knew and trusted Gandalf, but though they trusted Aragorn implicitly, they were perhaps a little shy of him. The Dunadan, Bilbo had called him. His family came out of old stories and ancient legends, and what were they? Simple hobbits, with their homes and lives and hearts in the earth of the Shire.

So they sat in a foursome on one side of the fire, and Gandalf sat near them, for he knew or guessed their fear, and wished to comfort them. And Aragorn also sat near them, but for his own comfort, not theirs, for he desired to know beyond a shadow of a doubt they were protected. And Legolas sat next to Aragorn, and Gimli sat across the fire from Legolas, for he wished not to be seen near an elf, and an elf of that woodland realm that had so mistreated his father. And Boromir sat across the fire from the hobbits, and glared into the dying embers, for he had no friend to sit by, nor did he wish to be on this mission, dragging the children—or short men—all the way back to Gondor, when he could make it there much sooner on a swift horse. And to destroy this treasure! Boromir sat and glared into the fire, almost to revive its' dying coals by his hot stare.

And so they sat the second night, and the third, and never a word passed between them, except for the hobbits talking among themselves, and perhaps a comment from Aragorn to Gandalf about the way they were taking.

The fourth night Pippin decided he had had enough. The other hobbits were all very well in their own way, but after three nights of talking to them, he was bored to death. Frodo seemed to talk of doom, doom, nothing but doom, even if he was on a very different subject, and Samwise followed his master's lead, except he never quite succeeded in sounding so doleful. And Merry—well he was always talking to Merry! And Merry hadn't wanted him to come in the first place, and he said that since Pippin had to come, he should behave so that the others wouldn't try to send them both back to the Shire. But where was the fun in behaving? and besides, they'd gone too far now. It'd be wasting too much time, sending them back.

"Hullo, Boromir!" Boromir looked at the small hobbit who had plunked down right beside him. "Nice round thingee you got there. Why do you haul it around so much? Seems like it'd be awfully heavy to carry on your back, when you could carry so much food instead! can you roast things on it? Do you use it as a big dinner plate? that's what I'd use it for! it'd hold lots of food, don't you think?"

Boromir stared in abstract bewilderment at the source of this barrage of questions and comments. Gandalf nearly choked on his pipe when he laughed, and Aragorn hid a smile. A certain man was about to be confused witless.

"Oh yes, and I was wondering. Why do you wear that stiff old metal shirt? It can't be very flexible, that. Is it one of those stiff unyielding warrior things? Doesn't it hurt to sleep in it, like lots of little rings poking you from all sides? I wonder if I threw a stone at you, would it hurt?" Boromir started at this comment out of his shock, but could not get a question in edgewise. "But if it still hurts, why bothering wearing it? unless someone came along and shot an arrow at you, like the elf over there. But the elf over there is a nice elf, he wouldn't go around shooting arrows at people higgledy-piggledy. At least, I think so. Oh, I know why you wear the dinner plate on your back! to protect you from stray arrows!"

Gimli had glared at Legolas when he heard the arrow comments. Legolas smiled blithely back and Aragorn could not restrain his laughter. Soon even Gimli was laughing.

The effect of his actions had not missed Pippin's eyes. "And that ridiculous pointy thing you call a sword! Ah, well that thing must make a wonderful breadchopper! Tell me, does it chop very long loaves? Seems to be it'd be kind of hard to wield, seeing as it's so long! don't you cut yourself ever? I'd think, if everyone went about waving long swords like that, we'd soon have a bunch of one-legged or one-armed men! Aye, and how'd you get away with two of each? Maybe all you did was chop off other people's arms and legs! that's not very nice though, is it?"

Boromir growled. He had had enough of this impudent young hobbit. He finally took action.

"Aye, I chop off arms and legs! Any limbs that get into my way! So if you don't move yourself, Master Halfing, you might end up the same way as the rest of them I seperated from a leg! or maybe an arm would be better for you, seeing as your legs are already so close to the ground I don't want to make them any closer!!"

Pippin sqealed and darted to the other side of the fire, hiding behind Gandalf. He yelped something as he ran about 'Honest I didn't mean it!!!!'

Boromir sat down and realized everyone else was laughing heartily. He almost glared at them all for laughing at him, the Heir of Gondor, but after a few seconds, he laughed too. It had been pretty funny.

The next night, Gandalf sat in a corner of a camp watching as Boromir gave Pippin sword lessons. Merry was watching, offering excited comments and tips to Pippin, waiting for his turn. Aragorn sat smoking, laughing at the fun. Gimli and Legolas were still as far away from each other as possible, but Gimli was discussing the better merits of pipeweed with Samwise and Legolas was courteously answering questions from Frodo on the nature of Mirkwood and its' spiders.

Pippin wasn't bored any more. And the Fellowship had finally begun.


End file.
